


personal foul

by roommate



Series: shadow doubles [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol asking Yixing to jerk him off in his body once is permissible. Asking Yixing to do it a second time is just asking for trouble. (<b>Warning/s:</b> body swap, weird, underage phone sex, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, edging / a bit of orgasm denial | Written for the second round of <a href="http://justgetlayd.livejournal.com/33060.html">justgetlayd</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	personal foul

The consensus is that Chanyeol's boner for Huilang is just as bad as Yixing's sports boner for Roger Federer. Chanyeol doesn't quite understand the parallelism yet, not giving a shit about tennis and its players, but it makes perfect sense to Yixing. In fact, most things about this whole arrangement do – Chanyeol is hard, the strain in the pants is hard to carry around, and jerking oneself off feels good especially after a long day at practice. What doesn't make sense to Yixing is this.

"Ten minutes?" Yixing asks for the third time. He cranes his neck to check the door of his room – Chanyeol's room, Jesus, he has to get used to this – and leans back into the pillows when he sees it's locked. He lets out a loud exhale. "Dude, your dick barely hung around after I heard Huilang _giggle–_ "

"Just do as I say, dammit!" Chanyeol says, seething. Static chops up Chanyeol's voice, but he hears the plea somewhere there, a request for Yixing to just give in. Some rustling of the sheets on the other end of the line, then Chanyeol says, "Okay. You remember how it's done?"

Jerking oneself off almost comes as easily as breathing. Nobody knows your body as well as you do, after all, but their case is different. Yixing is trapped in Chanyeol's body as Chanyeol is trapped in his, and while Yixing can neither see nor hear the allure in Huilang's voice Chanyeol's body definitely can. She's cute, to say the very least; her being athletic sets her apart from most girls Chanyeol has dreamed of at least once. She has a soft, soothing speaking voice, but when she giggles Yixing finds himself wincing more than anything else. Chanyeol's dick does something entirely different, twitches in his pants and grows heavier with every passing minute. So Yixing has to deal with this for a second time, and maybe a third, until Chanyeol's boner for Huilang dissipates. Maybe graduating from middle school can help tame the beast.

Yixing takes a deep breath and runs his thumb along his dick. He feels his throat tighten as he strokes his length some more, then says, "Yeah. I'm good."

Yixing still remembers Chanyeol's instructions from when he first asked Yixing to jerk him off down to the very last detail – Chanyeol loves teasing himself through his clothes first, and when he feels he's about to burst he begins to jerk himself off in a loose fist, in easy pumps. Yixing rubs the tip of his dick with his thumb a few times until his thighs shake, until his stomach turns and a gasp escapes his lips. "Okay. Good," Chanyeol whispers into the receiver, and that sends a sizzle of heat rolling down Yixing's abdomen. If Chanyeol's body responded to Huilang's voice in a split-second, Yixing's senses registered arousal after hearing Chanyeol's voice faster than he could take a breath.

"Give your balls a squeeze. That'll feel good. Don't– Don't come too easily, though," Chanyeol says. Yixing grunts in reply and does as he is told, tucking his phone between his cheek and his shoulder before rubbing circles on his balls.

He picks up pace after a while, easy jerks turning into sloppy thrusts as he rolls his hips to meet his fist. Chanyeol keeps him in check on the phone – "You're doing good. Not too fast now…" – and Yixing wills every fiber of his being to not give in at once. He can feel his abdomen clenching so hard with every stroke, with every words dripping from Chanyeol's lips as he says _that feels good, right? You like that?_ His dick feels so hard and heavy and _shit_ if Chanyeol's not going to let him come. Chanyeol should know how it feels, to be kept on the edge, the pain of holding back and willing arousal away.

"Shit–" Yixing's face falls forward as he gives his dick long, hard pumps. The friction drives him crazy and pricks his skin; Chanyeol's laughter on the other end of the line, breathy and raspy, sets off explosions at the back of his eyelids.

"Okay. Now, slow down," Chanyeol whispers. Yixing groans in acknowledgement but follows, anyway, hips bucking when he goes back to tracing lines on his dick with his thumb.

"H-h-hey, can we–" Chanyeol lets out a choked gasp and Yixing's dick twitches. He wonders, then, if Chanyeol still remembers how to jerk Yixing off, the secret trick Yixing shared a few days ago, the sensation of twisting his fist around his dick. There's nothing but silence on the other end of the line, and then Chanyeol's heavy breathing, and it takes a while before Chanyeol speaks up again. "Can we try something?"

Yixing laughs a little. "As long as it's not something crazy, I'd be–"

"Fuck yourself with your fingers."

He feels his dick twitch and he unwraps his fingers around his length, scared to come without Chanyeol granting permission. He coughs and chokes on his own spit, then clears his throat in an attempt to restore the feeling in it. "You want me to what?" he asks, but this time it comes out more like a plea for sanity than anything else. Here Park Chanyeol is, asking Yixing to fuck him with his fingers while he's in Chanyeol's body. It's like asking Yixing to take the shot after Chanyeol's struggled to take possession of the ball. "What do you… What do you want me to do?"

"I said, fuck yourself with your fingers," Chanyeol repeats, voice steadier this time like he's sure of what he wants. Like it's the most normal thing in the world, asking your friend, your _best friend_ on court and off of it, to do you a favor and finger your open. "Fuck me."

Yixing takes a shaky breath and nods. For a moment, he forgets Chanyeol can't see him, and he sort of regrets it that Chanyeol can't. It's not as if he's an expert at this, but he isn't a stranger to it either. He's tried it before, a couple of times, after he and Henry watched a couple of tacky pornos on Henry's laptop. He'd excuse himself, quietly jerk himself off in the bathroom while Henry rutted against the bed sheets. Once Henry had left, Yixing would finger himself open until he was seething. The angle was hard, difficult, but the feeling was always nice, like he was being pushed to the edge and he was fighting back with every inch of his will.

So he sucks in two fingers, coating them with saliva, and clears his throat as he gets down on all fours. The phone, he puts down in front of him, puts on speaker phone. "You're buying me lunch," Yixing mutters into the receiver. "And desserts. And snacks. And you won't hog the three-pointers in the next game."

He hears the sheets rustle on the other end of the line, then a muffled grunt. The static in the air runs shivers down his spine. "Yeah, sure," Chanyeol replies, chuckling. "Just make sure to fuck me good."

He runs a finger along his rim and his body tenses at the cold sensation. On a normal day, Chanyeol is sensitive to changes in temperature, but with his body flush with arousal his reaction is magnified, increases tenfold. He pauses at the pucker and slowly dips one digit inside, moving his finger when he's halfway in. "I'm going to hell for this," he mumbles under his breath. 

Chanyeol laughs but chokes halfway through. He makes a high, keening noise that Yixing senses is from fingering himself, as well. "We're going to hell for this," Chanyeol amends. Yixing strains his hearing but catches no traces of remorse in Chanyeol's voice.

It takes much longer to stretch himself than it does to get himself hard. The slow thrusts gain cadence minutes after, once the friction of the intrusion becomes more bearable. Chanyeol's panting on the other end of the line, gasps unabashed, and Yixing feels his neglected dick twitch between his thighs. "My back fucking hurts," Yixing admits, and Chanyeol laughs a little, then, like they aren't listening to each other jerk off and finger themselves. If this is part of chemistry building then they should've done this before. They'd be making better passes and taking greater leads, then, executing better team play and just playing a higher quality of basketball in general. Then they'd meet at half court with a high five once they've already won. It could mean, _Thanks for the pass, that was a great save save._ Alternatively, _thanks for the great sex. 'Til next._

Yixing slips another finger inside and he gasps at the new intrusion. He clenches around his fingers so hard he feels they might snap off anytime, so he slows down the thrusting, eases himself into the sensation like the good guy that he is.

"Well, that feels–" Chanyeol lets out a low groan and Yixing hears a soft thud on the other end of the line. They can switch back now. They probably should. They don't, though – they're still in each other's bodies and Yixing's still fucking Chanyeol open with his fingers. He records Chanyeol's low grunts in his mind, plays them again and again as he feels his stomach clench and turn and– "Oh shit, that feels good–"

And for all of Chanyeol's eagerness for them to try out something 'new', to get more out of finger-fucking, he still reminds Yixing to hold back just before he peaks. "Easy– Not yet–" Chanyeol says between gasps, and Yixing tries hard to not push back against his fingers. His skin is stained with heat and sweat and his dick feels so heavy between his thighs. And his chest is heaving. Three digits in and he feels so full, feels like he might explode anytime, but Chanyeol tells him time and again, "Not yet, you can't come yet. Stay with me."

Yixing curls his fingers in his ass at the same time that Chanyeol does. He lets out a soft moan and buries his face in the sheets when he hits a sensitive spot, presses down on it and pushes his hips back, yearning friction. "You still with me?" Chanyeol asks on the other end of the line – more like _moans_ because the sentence is peppered with groans and gasps and Jesus, Chanyeol's whimpers sound so sweet in Yixing's ears.

"I'm gonna lose it, oh my God–" Yixing feels his jaw lock, doesn't hold back the whimper that escapes his lips when he drives into his prostrate again and again with his fingers. He bucks into the touch and grinds against his fingers, and he wraps his free hand around his dick again, flinching when cold skin meets the heat of his length. "Chanyeol, please, I've got to–"

"Just a little more," Chanyeol assures. His breathing hitches, and he draws out a low hiss. Yixing waits, listens for a grunt, and with a shaky breath attempts to push inside a fourth finger. Dammit, the stretch feels fantastic and unlike anything he's ever experienced before. It's better than winning a championship and Chanyeol lifting him off the ground for a hug and Chanyeol sliding misbehaving hands up his back–

"Ready? Chanyeol asks now. His breathing has steadied considerably, but there's still a tremble there between the words, almost unnoticeable. But Yixing knows Chanyeol. He's known him since first year of middle school and he knows the way Chanyeol moves, knows what Chanyeol is feeling just by looking at the way he furrows his eyebrows. He has a catalogue of Chanyeol's expressions at the back of his mind, filed in the order that he's seen them – the look of uncertainty during their first game with Jin Cai, the excitement in his features when they won. The soft glances and smiles and they way he lets his fingers dance on Yixing's thighs. The way Chanyeol hovers close enough for Yixing to feel Chanyeol's breath hot on his skin, but doesn't linger long enough for it to make a difference.

Yixing takes a deep breath and grunts. He thrusts back, sheathing his fingers in all the way. He doesn't whimper. "Okay, let's do this."

Chanyeol eases him into four fingers like he's setting up play, giving him hints and cues how to do things right. "Pull out, then thrust back in. Try to relax," Chanyeol says, but it's hard. Yixing feels so strung out, stretched so thin between the thrust of his fingers inside him and the steady jerks of his fist around his dick. He's running out of time and he has to do something, and his toes curl in as he moans when Chanyeol tells his to twist his fingers, curl the tips, pick up the pace as he fucks into his hand to the rhythm of his heavy, erratic breathing.

"Chanyeol, I'm gonna–" Yixing swallows hard and seethes at the drought in his throat, and prickling sensation in his dick, the heat in every thrust of his fingers in his ass. Chanyeol hums the best that he can and whispers, without preamble, "Come for me," and Yixing loses it, face falling forward into the sheets. He ruts into his fingers and pumps himself as the heat of orgasm washes over him, wraps him in a quilt and shocks him into release. Chanyeol's soft _ah's_ accompany him through his orgasm, ring in his ears until he's milked the rest of his release and he's falling into his bed. His knees shake and his thighs feel like jelly and Chanyeol's laughing on the other end of the line – soft, scratchy, breathy.

"This is crazy," Chanyeol says, the same way he'd said it the first time he asked Yixing to jerk him off.

Yixing snorts. The sheets muffle the sound, but Chanyeol's laughter is still bright in his ears. "You're crazy."

Chanyeol doesn't say anything, but Yixing can still hear his heavy breathing. A bout of soft laughter, and then there's silence again, broken only occasionally by the hitch in Chanyeol's breathing.

Yixing lies flat on his back, one ear pressed to his phone. He doesn't end the call even as the chuckling dies down. He stays on the line, listening.

 

 

Things don't feel any different the following day, when they meet at the gym. Chanyeol, still in Yixing's body, directs the play like he normally would, takes the ball from Henry and looks around for an opening. He locks eyes with Yixing for a moment and Yixing sees something there – shyness? A memory of their phone conversation? A traitorous flush creeping up Chanyeol's cheeks? He can't tell. He keeps his eyes on the ball, on every jerk of Chanyeol's body, and receives the pass with two hands before going for the basket. If Chanyeol ever displays favoritism on court or any sign of gratitude after last night's run, he doesn't make it overt, simply gives Yixing the ball every chance he gets. And Yixing takes it, shoots and earns the team another point, and another, and another. At the end of the day, it's still Huilang who Chanyeol's dick responds to, not Yixing's warm smile or the light brush of their knuckles. They're teammates. They're friends. They understand each other's bodies more than anyone else does. They don't have anything special. This is just how they really are.


End file.
